


The Divination Intervention

by mister_otter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Divination, Eventual Romance, F/M, Snark, Some Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mister_otter/pseuds/mister_otter
Summary: Hermione's never been good at Divination-- until she's forced to partner with Draco Malfoy.





	The Divination Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my best-of-the-best beta, eilonwy!!  
> This is a 5th Year AU, written for the 2017 Dramionelove Minifest. Max word count 2500, sooo- a lot to say in a limited format. :)

As he entered Professor Trelawney’s darkened classroom, Draco Malfoy knew that today’s Advanced Divination lesson would be something special. Midnight draperies hid the windows; crystal orbs circled slowly above the tables, casting rainbows as they passed. 

Hermione Granger, walking in just behind him, knew it would be ‘special,’ too. 

“Shite,” she murmured, blinking in disgust. “Time for another round of ‘Let’s Gaze at Our Balls Until We All Go Blind.’”

“What’s the matter, Granger?” Draco glanced over his shoulder with a sneer. “Dreading the one class where you can never best me?”

“I beat you in all the ones that matter,” she snapped. “Divination is pure…”

“…Embarrassment for you,” he smirked.

“Miss Granger! Mr. Malfoy!” Trelawney’s goggle-like glasses winked at them from the front of the room. “Today’s a partnership day. Since the two of you arrived a half-minute late, it appears you will be working together.”

“Shite.” It was Draco’s turn to swear. “Of all the accursed luck…” He slung his satchel onto the table as Hermione sat down across from him, dumping her books in a heap.

“Why were you dragging your feet and blocking the doorway?” she hissed.

“Maybe because you’re such fun to torment?” he hissed back. “And you were the one dawdling, hanging back for one last glimpse of the Weasel King.”

Hermione blushed fiercely at Draco’s mocking grin. 

“You think you’re so clever at hiding it, Granger, but I know you’ve got a major crush on someone who’s not into you. Be careful, or I’ll tell the whole school.”

“Bully!” She glared daggers.

“Target!” He turned away as Trelawney raised her hands and launched into the day’s assignment. 

“With your partner, you will endeavor to plumb the mystic depths!” she intoned. “Join magical forces to reach for visions, premonitions!” Trelawney’s hands began to wave about wildly. “Try for astral projection. Or… yes! A prophecy!” 

Draco’s eyes glittered. “Visions! Predictions!” he mimicked. “None of it matters, Granger, because it’s a subject where you will never, ever succeed.”

“Shut up, Malfoy. I wouldn’t be in this ridiculous class if Professor McGonagall hadn’t insisted.” 

“She _insisted_ because you’re such a failure at divining,” he taunted. “Proof you don’t belong at Hogwarts. Truly gifted wizards and witches excel at this stuff.” Draco used his wand to snag a floating crystal ball from the air. He grabbed Hermione’s hands, placing one of them on the orb and keeping the other in his. “Let’s get started. I have no hope for _you,_ but maybe my skill will carry us through to something interesting.”

Draco enjoyed Divination. He ignored the fact that he was holding Granger’s hand and concentrated instead on reaching for the magical deeps, allowing power to flow between them.

Hermione hated Divination. But she hated failure more. Focusing hard, she lost herself in the murmur of classmates’ voices, the prismatic winking of the circling orbs, the feel of her enemy’s hand in hers.

“Close your eyes,” Draco demanded. They both did, caught in a sudden swirl of inner-eye magic so strong it blotted out their surroundings.

Seconds later, the two of them stood on Platform 9 ¾, its stone surface as solid as the classroom chairs in which they were actually sitting. They were waiting for the Hogwarts Express— for their children, not themselves.

It felt quite authentic, their life of two decades on. They fell into it as if they’d fully lived the span of years leading to this one September day.

Hermione smiled at the nebulous boy and girl that she knew must be her son and daughter. At her side in a rumpled, tattersall shirt, comfortable as a fuzzy sock, was Ron, chatting with Harry about getting his Muggle driving license. Her world seemed sane, safe, and settled. 

Until she turned her head and looked down the tracks, to where Draco Malfoy stood beside his own nebulous wife and son. He was all grey and golden like the day, and the sight of him drove Hermione to wild distraction with longing and regret. 

She had absolutely no idea why.

“Draco,” she breathed.

“Are you seeing this?” His voice, low and intense, came at her from a faraway place. In another realm, in a 5th year classroom, their hands were still tightly clasped. “It’s some sort of vision.” 

“It’s… so real. It hurts.”

“Does.”

Their words echoed; the vision went on. 

Across the space between them on Platform 9 ¾, Draco felt that same strong surge of loss and longing. Hermione was so damned special. She was everything. Why wasn’t she standing beside him? He only knew that she should have been. 

Angling toward her, Draco raised one hand and slid it across his forehead, then dropped it to his chest and did the same above his heart, a quick and elegant gesture that no one would catch unless they were looking for it. Hermione repeated the pattern, though neither knew why.

As a whistle blew in the distance, they turned back to their families. No words, no second glances. That simple, private gesture seemed to say it all. 

Steam rose from the engine as the train slid into the station. Rose and rose, wrapping the whole world in clouds of candy-floss white. 

The vision ended just as Advanced Divination did, leaving Draco and Hermione staring at each other, his left hand still holding her right in a white-knuckled grip. Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. His face was expressionless, his eyes wild as storms. 

Outwardly, nothing had changed. The classroom remained dark; the orbs kept circling overhead. Trelawney assigned a foot of parchment on today’s experiences, due by Friday. Students gathered their things, chattering as they headed to their next activities. 

Hermione and Draco did not move.

Padma Patil shot them a knowing glance as she passed their table, followed by a grinning Blaise, who swatted Draco on the back of the head. “Watch it, Malfoy. Padma and I had a premonition that you’re going to ask Granger out.” 

“Liar!” Draco growled, stomach swooping as Blaise gave him a find-me-later look. 

He and Hermione remained seated, gazing at each other in shock, cautiously uncurling their fingers from the death grip they had on one another’s hands.

5th year teasing seemed suddenly shallow and stupid, unrelated to anything real. Unless… 

What if Blaise spoke truth? What if ‘asking Granger out’ was how this whole business would get started?

“Miss Granger? Mr. Malfoy?” Trelawney stopped beside their table. “The two of you are pale as ghosts. My, you must have had a powerful experience!” Her voice grew excited. “No need to wait for the assigned report. Please, tell me now! Was it a prophecy?”

Eyes still on Draco, Hermione leaped from the table, nearly knocking over her chair. She grabbed her books, dropping one in the process. “There’s nothing to tell. I…I didn’t see a thing!”

She fled the classroom as if dragons were chasing her.

“She’s right,” Draco lied, retrieving Hermione’s book and shoving it into his satchel. “Granger’s terrible at Divination. You know that, Professor. Worst partner ever. Sorry, we’ve nothing to report.” 

His long legs had him out the door in three steps, leaving Trelawney gawping at the empty doorway. 

In the corridor, Draco glanced up and down but Hermione was gone. Now what? He felt disoriented, shaken, and completely unprepared for the Quidditch practice scheduled in half an hour. 

He needed to find Granger, make sure she was all right. It mattered. She mattered. In fact, her being all right was the only thing that mattered. In the space of a single class period, his rival had somehow ceased to be his enemy, though he had no idea what the fuck that even meant.

Draco took deep breaths, imagining the chill air high above the Quidditch pitch. Zabini played on the Slytherin team. He could ask if Blaise had been lying about that premonition. At the moment, it was the only normal thing he knew to do.

In a stall of the girls’ restroom, Hermione leaned against a wall, clutching her stomach. She felt shaken, confused, and worried about Malfoy. How was he feeling, after what they’d experienced? The intensity of it clung and clung, refusing to let go. The longing, the regret— it hurt. But why should she suddenly care how Draco felt? She didn’t know a damned thing about why, only that she wanted Malfoy to be all right.

Two hours later, Draco sat astride his broomstick, deep in conversation with his teammate. 

“I’m not shitting you,” Blaise insisted. “Padma and I shared a premonition that you and Granger would date. It felt… intense. I’m guessing you felt it, too?”

"Something like that.” Draco stared at the ground far below. “Problem is I need to discuss it with Granger.”

Blasie grinned knowingly. “To talk with a girl, you have to meet. And to meet, you have to arrange it ahead of time. That’s called a date, Malfoy, any way you slice it.”

Draco reached out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Swear to me you aren’t lying about the premonition.”

“Fuck, man. We’re mates! I might kid you, but I wouldn’t lie about something as serious as dating someone you hate!”

“Got it. Thanks.” Accelerating his broom, Draco arced toward the ground. Whatever had happened between him and Granger in Divination, it was potent enough to spill over onto another couple. Now what? 

A sudden idea bloomed and he changed his trajectory, heading for the Owlery instead. 

Hermione had begged off dinner, spending the time trying to puzzle out how the stupidest of all classes could have revealed something so impossible to ignore. The feelings from the vision lingered, making her crush on Ron seem like schoolgirl nonsense.

When Malfoy’s message arrived, she was pacing her dorm room, wondering how to handle this new situation. Still, she smiled at his wording, his attempt to trick Fate by arranging an ‘accidental’ meeting: _Divination classroom, 8 p. m. Your book will be on the table._

And it was, in the exact spot where they’d sat earlier. 

Hermione glanced around Trelawney’s empty room, the orbs winking from their places on the shelves, the draperies open to reveal a starry sky. 

“You may as well come out, Malfoy,” she called. “I know you’re hiding behind the door.”

“I’m not hiding. I just happened to be back here when you came in. Pure coincidence.”

“Of course.” She watched him walk toward her across the darkened room. “Are you all right after… this afternoon?”

“No. Are you?”

“Not at all.” She reached out and touched his arm and immediately it was there— that undeniable bond they’d sensed earlier. “Everything feels strange. Like having a secret that no one else is in on. Except maybe the universe itself.”

“I wish I didn’t know what you’re talking about, but I do. What is this, Granger? We both saw the same thing, I think. Any idea what happened?”

“None. But it keeps… resonating. I feel it here. And here.” She brushed her fingertips across her forehead, then did the same above her heart.

Draco grabbed her shoulders as Hermione realized what she’d just done.

“Why did you do that? It’s the same pattern we made in the vision! Is this how everything starts? Right now, tonight?” 

“I don’t know! But we’re clever, Malfoy! We can figure this out!” She was babbling. “What we saw is exactly what we’d expect. I’ve been crushing on Ron. You’ll marry… someone, we all will! Some of it wasn’t clear because Divination isn’t precise. That’s why I despise it!”

“I don’t think it matters what we saw,” he said quietly. “It only matters what we felt. In the future, you and I had a history. Somewhere between now and then, something will happen between us. Something real.”

“How can we have a history when it’s all still to come?” Frustrated, Hermione sat down on the tabletop. “But you’re right. It didn’t just feel real. Whatever happened, I think it _was_ real. ”

“Blaise and Padma had a premonition that we would date.”

“Padma has premonitions that everyone will date.” Hermione smiled.

She looked so cute sitting there, eyes wide, feet not touching the ground. Draco stood facing her, tall, lean, athletic. Something stirred between them. Attraction. Want. Genuine liking. 

Oh, no. NO.

Draco grabbed her hand, pulling her from the table. “C’mon. We need to talk to Dumbledore about this. Besides Snape, he’s the wisest one here.”

“I thought you hated Dumbledore!”

“My father hates Dumbledore. The only person I hate is _you.”_

“Thanks a lot.”

Draco sighed, striding down the corridor, pulling Hermione in his wake. “Since this afternoon, when I think of you, it’s different… on my inside. No hate. You?”

“Same.”

“Thought so. Feels deep, yeah? Flows both ways? That’s mad as fuck. We need help.”

“But it also feels private!”

“Would you rather ask Trelawney?”

Within minutes, they were sharing the story of their vision as Dumbledore listened intently.

Finally, “You seem to be telling me that your feeling of regret was the paramount element of this experience. Correct?” the Headmaster asked.

“Yes.” Both spoke at once.

“It’s quite possible, and plausible, for the magical subconscious to create a vision as a warning of what _not_ to do.”

“As in, not date each other so nothing will happen?” Draco asked. 

“Quite the opposite. As in, don’t let your opportunity slip away or you will regret it.” 

“But, we saw…” Hermione began.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. “What’s important here is the sense of longing you both felt, for what could have been between _you._ Perhaps you might regard the vision as a form of awakening, a useful guide for turning what should have been into what actually _is._ ”

They stared at him, Hermione’s mouth once again open in a perfect ‘o.’

“But… we’re only 5th years!” Draco argued.

“Alas.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I cannot help you with that.”

Standing in the corridor outside the Headmaster’s office, Draco glared at the closed door. “Damn. Did Dumbledore just throw us to the wolves?”

“If by ‘wolves’ you mean Fate and our subconscious minds, then yes. He did.”

“So basically he was saying, “Go figure it out. But don’t fuck up, because it’s really important.”

Hermione sighed. “This should feel awkward, Malfoy. Why doesn’t it?”

“No idea. Until a few hours ago, we were enemies. Now, I’d like to know you better. Even though in a weird way, I feel like I already do.”

“My book is still in the Divination classroom. I could go get it, and you could walk me there. Slowly.”

“I hate it when Blaise is right.” Draco reached for her hand as they started toward the stairs. 

“Is he? You haven’t asked me out yet.”

“What if maybe, just maybe, I do? What you would say?”

“I hate it when Padma’s right.” 

Dumbledore, eavesdropping behind his office door with a pair of Extendable Ears, laughed.

__

Fin


End file.
